


Baby Boy

by Pussyhands



Series: Dumb Kids [8]
Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Blowjobs, Dennis Reynolds is a Bastard Man, Dom/sub Undertones, Episode: s05e01 The Gang Exploits The Mortgage Crisis, Fake Relationship, M/M, Mac is gay and stupid, gagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:26:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24585295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pussyhands/pseuds/Pussyhands
Summary: “You gotta look the part baby, gotta look the part. You really think you could fit into my pants Mac? That’s ridiculous.” Dennis is leading Mac through the mall like he was wearing a leash.
Relationships: Mac McDonald/Dennis Reynolds
Series: Dumb Kids [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1689493
Comments: 2
Kudos: 58





	Baby Boy

“You gotta look the part baby, gotta look the part. You really think you could fit into my pants Mac? That’s ridiculous.” Dennis is leading Mac through the mall like he was wearing a leash. Mac’s following a little behind and sullen, with the demeanor of someone who absolutely is not psyched about this at all, not even a bit. The plan is great, and so what if it’s a little... gay? As they had explained to Frank, that was just a matter of convenience. People would never trust a straight real-estate agent, it’s not a very manly job. Certainly nothing like being the sherif of Paddy’s. What Mac doesn’t understand is why they have to dress like little bitches to sell real-estate. And he knows Dennis is going to take every opportunity to show Mac just how much fancier than him he is in the stupid fancy store. Asshole.

“I don’t give a fuuuuuck dude”. Mac says, and it comes out way whinier than he’d intended. Dennis turns around sharply. His eyes have that hyper focused look that he gets when he has decided how everything will go and will not allow the tiniest variation. “Well you WILL give a fuck because this is who we are for the next 24 hours and I’m not going to half ass it” 

“Ok, whatever”

They’re in the fanciest store in the mall and Mac’s never been in a place like this (besides that one time in middle school, trying to shove stuff down his pockets, getting the mall cop called immediately, running through the whole goddamn mall, getting knocked down on his face. Not very badass). Dennis moves around the store graceful, like a big jungle cat. He owns this motherfucker, and everyone can see it. The Kennedy bone structure, the effortless charm. This piece of shit store should be lucky Dennis has decided to grace it with his presence. 

The attendant takes a few weary steps in Mac’s direction before Dennis is hanging on his arm, easy smile and flirty. “Don’t worry sweetheart, it’s just my husband needs some nicer clothes don’t you think? Vic you look so white trash, it’s scaring the lady” he says grabbing the hem of Mac’s shirt, face like he was touching Charlie’s bridge denim. “No YOU’RE scaring the...” Mac starts raising his voice but Dennis’ claws sink into his arm, drawing blood. Mac thinks it’s bullshit but he doesn’t have time to think, because Dennis is grabbing and posing him like he’s a Ken doll (a Max Steel, definitely a Max Steel) “Yeah I’d say that’s about right baby doll, and why don’t you grab us one in red, it’ll compliment his pretty red cheeks” and Dennis slaps Mac in the ass so hard that the whole store turns around. 

Mac’s whisper is hoarse and completely unsubtle when the sales lady goes off to get a different size. “Dude why are you treating me like a little kid?” “You’re my trophy husband” Dennis shrugs, nonplused. “Be grateful I upgraded you, you used to be the pool boy”. Of course Dennis has thought of everything. And of course he’s some sort of millionaire in his fantasy while Mac’s some white trash pool boy. “Well then I get to be the top” is all Mac can think to say, defensively. “You can top me anytime you want baby” Dennis smiles at Mac like he’s the fucking devil, and below him, Mac’s knees buckle and his dick twitches. 

“Come on baby let’s try these on”, and Hugh flashes his wining smile at the attendant as she half opens her mouth to say something while he’s slinking into the changing room behind Mac. “Oh no, don’t worry about it, I always go in the dressing room with him, he gets flustered with all the tags hanging and whatnot” Dennis winks all glamorous and golden. No poor person could ever have these teeth. Dennis is better than everyone in here, he doesn’t own this piece of shit store just because he can’t be bothered, he can go anywhere he pleases, he’s royalty. “Oh shit Den look at the size of this place!” Mac’s looking at the huge dressing room like he really was the pool boy (actually, he’s lower than a pool boy, he was a juvenile drug dealer when Dennis pulled him out of the gutter) dazzled by the splendor of a high end men’s clothes store in South Philly. Dennis just sits in the dressing room chair, leans back and crosses his long, feminine legs. 

“Strip”

“What?”

(Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh fuck oh shit)

“Strip so you can try on the clothes Vic, or do you need help?” Mac doesn’t know what to say so he’s tearing his clothes off, getting tangled with his own shirt like Dennis told the attendant he would. “Ok, put those on” “Now the blue one” “no but keep the pants” “baby do you even know how to button a shirt or what?” “You thinks those are tight? That’s just because you’re not used to wearing sleeves Vic. You’re such a street rat, it’s endearing really”. Dennis walks up to him, agonizingly slow, making eye contact the whole while. “You gonna be a good boy and try on a few more without pouting? I’ll give you a treat”. Mac whimpers like a puppy, and Dennis wishes he had a leash. Maybe after this he’ll get one. “You think you’d like that baby?” Mac thinks he’s going to ruin these 1000 dollar pants. He frantically tries to figure out what’s happening. There’s no one else in here for Dennis to put on a show for. Is it for Mac then? No, of course not, it’s just Dennis’ special brand of madness that makes him commit to the role way beyond what’s needed. Way beyond what’s sane. 

The fancy sales lady is knocking on the door, a little too hard for the prices on these subpar rags they’re going to buy from her. “Are you two ok in there? Do you need assistance?” Dennis haughtily opens the door, Mac frozen in place, stupid look on his face. “We’ll take all of these, so just run the tags sweetie” Dennis says, shoving most of the clothes they brought in at the attendant. “My husband will be wearing those out”, and then, to Mac’s disbelief, Dennis gestures at him, giving the sales lady a good look at the tented crotch of his new super fancy pants.

The total comes out at a number Mac didn’t know was posible to spend on clothes. Dennis doesn’t give it a second look, handing over Frank’s stolen credit card with a flick of the wrist. “Tack on 30% honey, a little tip for you, for being so helpful” “sir, this is a clothing store” “of course it is darling, just do as l tell you yeah? And also throw these in the trash”, Dennis says as he hands the confused sales lady Mac’s old clothes” “hey!” Mac protests. That shirt is hilarious! “Baby those were looking atrocious, don’t argue” Dennis is blatantly flirting with the saleslady and Mac is furious. It’d be ok if they were just shopping here as bros (though it’s never totally ok, and Mac’s known that since he was seventeen. He just stuffs it down). The problem is Dennis is supposed to be his husband, and he’s cuking him in front of all these people. He’s making him look like an asshole. Mac is about to say something clever and storm out of the store (so far he’s got “fuck you Dennis”, he should always have some clever stuff to say memorized for these occasions. The problem is he gets them all from Dennis.) That’s when Dennis puts his arm around his waist, all light and flirty. “I bet you’re grumpy because you’re hungry” Dennis pouts, like he’s talking to a small, ornery child “you’ve been such a good boy today, I’m taking you to lunch!”

...... 

Dennis doesn’t take him to Guigino’s. Too many people there know who they are: The loud and vaguely homoerotic assholes who never leave a tip, and Dennis is absolutely intent on keeping character. Luckily there’s a very expensive looking French place a few blocks down from the mall, and Dennis enjoys parading his trophy husband around as they walk there, now dressed more fittingly, and carrying at least ten bags emblazoned with the name of the most expensive clothing store Dennis could find. 

“Dennis I’m hungryyyy” Mac whines “what do French people even eat?” “What did you just call me Vic?” Dennis stops dead in his tracks “Oh yeah, I’m sorry, Hugh”, Mac says sheepishly. Dennis, for the millionth time in his life, curses Mac’s untreated ADHD, but nothing can sour his mood, because they’ve just stepped into a place befitting his station, chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and understated, white and gold interior design. 

“Good afternoon sir. Do you have a reservation?” 

“No, but I’m sure you can accommodate us baby girl”, and Dennis is pressing the hundred dollar bill they got from the ATM on the hostess’ ample bosom. She gives him an annoyed look and guides them to a booth by the window. Dennis saunters in like he was born to eat at this restaurant, Mac follows a few steps behind, flustered by the bags getting caught on each other. The upholstery on the seats looks like it costs more than all of Dee’s cars put together. Dennis snaps his fingers at a waiter (more annoyed glances) and orders the most expensive bottle of wine on the menu. 

Mac goes to pick up the dainty dinner roll that’s been deposited on his side plate (is that what that plate’s called? Rich bitches have names for everything) and Dennis smacks his hand away “carbs baby”. Dennis orders their entrees and Mac tries not to sound too childish when he complains “but I don’t know what bisque is! And I’m not even sure I like lobster” “don’t be such a rube Vic, just look nice and listen to my story” Dennis says, continuing his critique of an opera he’s never seen but is sure Hugh Honey would be partial to. 

Mac pouts at the orange soup set before him, but he makes sure to eat it all, for authenticity. Dennis reaches across the table and wipes the edges of Mac’s mouth with his own napkin “don’t you dare get any food on that shirt or I will smack you in the teeth” the words contrasting with the sweetness in his voice (like honey!) and the tenderness of his demeanor. 

The main course is (of course. God I hate salad) a salad. “You need to stay fit and looking good for the customers Vic, you don’t want me walking around with a slob on my arm, do you?” Mac knows that he’s not eating salad for his figure. He’s eating salad because Dennis has decided to make a power move, show Mac who’s in charge. He says he’s his husband but he’s more like his bitch, and Mac knows he should be furious by now but Mac doesn’t give a shit about anything. 

Because Dennis’ right foot is parked squarely in the middle of his crotch. Shoeless. 

Hugh laughs. “Baby, either close your mouth or put some salad in there alright?” At a loss, Vic puts a forkful in his mouth. Hugh’s gaze is steady, domineering, and Vic is reeling. “Dude, this is too much, I can’t do it”. Vic is starting to go into gay panic mode, and Hugh knows he has to sell it a little. “You can’t do it because you always half ass everything Vic, you’ve got no commitment. Besides, I can tell you’re enjoying it. You’re enjoying it quite a bit”, and then he has the gall to wink at him. 

Hugh is rubbing his foot up and down, so imperceptibly Vic wonders if he’s moving it on purpose or not. Of course he is. He knows the effect he has on him, the bastard. 

“I... I can’t”

He’s so hard it’s painful.

Hugh hates to admit it, even to himself, but he lives for this. He never knew toying with someone could be so much fun before he met Vic. Toying with Dee would more often than not just end up with him bleeding from the nose. Toying with Vic is another matter, because he’s so dumb he never figures out what’s happening, he’s just silly putty, waiting to be molded into whatever Hugh’s whim dictates. It’s not like he takes it gladly. Vic’s homophobia will have him fighting himself, beating himself up, hating himself, every step of the way, and that makes it so much better. Vic’s so religious and bigoted and macho and he’s so goddamn horny. Hugh could brush his arm against him in a room full of people and Vic will practically start humping it. Fucking pool boy, shaking his tight ass in front of him, sitting on the drainage pipe when he thought Hugh wasn’t looking. 

Vic realices he’s staring at Hugh with his mouth wide open. How long has he been frozen like that? Goddamn Hugh and his bullshit. He fucking deserves going to hell. The problem is he’s going to drag him down with him. Just to have the company. “Do you need to use the bathroom baby boy?” Hugh’s smile is mirthful and almost innocent, Vic is blinded by the white of his teeth. “N...no. I’m alright”. “Ok, then finish your salad baby” and Hugh feeds him a forkful, looking him straight in the eye. Vic is going through so many different emotions he’s getting dizzy. He’s Vic Vinegar, he can do whatever he wants. He can do whatever Hugh wants. They’re on their third bottle of Chilean wine. Hugh says “come here” and he’s feeding Vic dessert, rich and creamy. Vic is on edge. Hugh’s warned him, three times now, not to ruin the fucking pants. 

“You want a treat boy? Eat all your meal and I’ll make it nice for you. I bet you’re so excited. Huh? Are you excited boy? Are ya?” Getting treated like a dog is somehow only getting Vic more desperate for it. He wants to pin Hugh down on the table and fuck him stupid. He hates himself for the way his body reacts to the condescending debasement Hugh excels at. But Hugh has gotten distracted, and he gently grabs Vic’s chin between his fingers, inspecting him like he’s buying cattle. “You’re going to start on a skin care routine, like, yesterday. And, I want you to drop ten pounds, your cheekbones are buried in fat for god’s sake”. He looks around and snaps his fingers. “Waiter! Cheese cart. Now” He’s looking at Vic like he wants to eat him alive. “Did you ever think you’d be eating in a place like this Vic?” Vic just wants to say what Hugh wants him to say, he just wants him to keep his foot there. 

“I’ll tell you what baby. We still have a couple of hours before the showing. Why don’t you go to the little boy’s room and I’ll be right along. Take the bags with you, we wouldn’t want to get robbed, some of these people look really shifty”, Hugh says this last part loudly, looking intently at a couple two tables down that Vic is pretty sure never did anything to warrant such accusations. “But De... Hugh, I don’t need to go” “How is it possible for a human being to be this stupid” Hugh musses to himself, and Vic gets up, electrified, sudden realization dawning on his stupid, puppy dog face “Ok D...Hugh, I’m going!” and he’s rushing in what appears to be the opposite direction of the bathroom, because he disappears around a corner and immediately backtracks, disappearing around the opposite corner. 

Hugh is snapping his fingers for the check. Normally he wouldn’t leave a tip, but he wants to spite Frank more than he wants to spite the waiter, so he puts down a 50% gratuity. He looks expectant at the waiter. He should be looking more grateful than that. Not many people have this kind of money to drop on a casual lunch. He’s surrounded by savages.

The table nearest to the bathroom is empty, there are not that many patrons left in the restaurant. (Hugh always enjoys making the staff wait for him to leave so they can go on break), so Hugh is able to grab a chair undetected and drag it inside, where he leans it against the door and under the doorknob, effectively padlocking it. Vic is just standing there, like a deer caught in the headlights. Hugh imagines he’s been standing there, in the middle of the bathroom, this whole time. God it’s like he was made for him.

Slowly Hugh saunters over, his feline grace rendering Vic absolutely speechless (not like he has anything to say). “Aww baby you clean up so nice, it almost looks like you belong here!” and Vic has no time to realize he’s being insulted, because Hugh has his hands on either side of his face. “How do you like being married to me Vic” It doesn’t sound like a question, but Vic answers it anyways. He wants to kick this role’s ass: “I like it so much Hugh. You’re so good to me”. “Of course I am baby” and just like that, Hugh’s ghosting his lips to his. Vic is frozen in place. He tries to not even breathe too hard, in case he scares Hugh away, which is stupid, because Hugh is completely immersed in his role right now. He’s Hugh Honey, powerful real-estate tycoon, and he’s locked in a four star restaurant bathroom with the white trash beefcake he decided to make his husband. He licks Vic’s lips, and Vic opens his mouth with a sigh. They’re kissing slow and sweet, and Vic digs his fists into his own sides. He’s resisting the urge to grab Hugh and throw him against the wall. Hugh senses him tense up against him. “Relax Vic, I don’t bite” he whispers against Vic’s mouth. “Can I touch you?” Vic asks with enough hope in his voice to break your heart. Hugh chuckles. Vic’s making this so easy for him, giving up control without having to be fought for it. Hugh feels a rush of power. This is his world, everyone else is just living in it, and it goes straight to his cock. “No” he says, low and deliberate. He could have said yes, but watching Vic squirm like that was just too entertaining. “You keep your hands at your sides and look pretty”. 

He can’t help it. Hugh would never admit it but he’s been waiting to do this for so long, to touch Vic’s lips with the tip of his fingers. To his surprise, Vic’s tongue flicks out, timidly, and Hugh takes this as permission to stick his whole pointer and middle finger into Vic’s mouth. Vic just holds his mouth open, and Hugh can practically hear him think, so desperate to do what’s expected of him but too stupid to know what it is. Hugh laughs, and without any warning he’s fingerfucking Vic’s throat like it’s a pussy. Vic gags in spite of himself, and his erection feels almost painful in his pants. This is it, this is his purpose on earth. Being used by Hugh. That’s all he’s ever wanted, for Hugh to be looking at him, and only him, like this, pupils blown wide with arousal, mouth half open in awe. Now Hugh has four fingers inside his mouth, and Vic’s beginning to drool, spit falling on the bathroom floor. Hugh decides the choking sounds are becoming too loud, loud enough to be heard by some concerned waiter outside the bathroom, so he removes his hand and daintily wipes it on Vic’s shirt, apparently forgetting how he threatened Vic with bodily harm if he stained it. “You like this huh? You’re my obedient little boy aren’t you?”, and Vic’s only just under a year younger than Hugh, but the authority in his voice makes him feel like he’s young and stupid, so below Hugh’s worldliness and natural authority. “Yeah I am”, he whispers, and this time it’s not only because he thinks it’s what Hugh wants to hear. He means it, and saying it fills him with arousal and shame. They were always pretty much the same thing to him anyways. 

Then the (even more) unexpected happens. “Give me your jacket baby” purrs Hugh, and Vic’s frantically tearing off his jacket and starting on the buttons of his shirt. Hugh laughs. It’s almost unfair how much he’s enjoying this. “No baby, just the jacket. That’s right. Now hand it to me” he says slow and calm, in contrast to the other man’s frantic energy. 

Hugh takes the jacket carefully in his hands and folds it neatly, then deliberately places it on the floor in front of him. Vic’s mouth is hanging wide open, (oh shit oh fuck oh shit oh shit) as Hugh (gracefully, so fucking graceful) falls to the ground to kneel on it. “See? I told you I’d make it nice for you. Now, you do what you’re told, and not cross any lines, and maybe then I’ll make you cum. Would you like that baby? Would you like to cum in my mouth?” Hugh’s tone is infantilizing, he could well be asking a toddler if he wants a cookie. Vic doesn’t mind, he doesn’t even register it. It’s the only way he wants to be spoken to for the rest of his life. Hugh apparently expects an answer though, so Vic whispers hoarsely “yeah. Yeah I’d like that”. Hugh smirks up at him, and doesn’t break eye contact as he expertly undoes his pants with one hand. Vic’s cock springs out of it’s confinement, big and hard and leaking. Vic thinks he’s never been so hard in his life. A breeze would probably make him cum right now, so he tries to think disgusting thoughts. Dee. Frank. Dee and Frank. Dee and Frank banging. No no that’s too far, he’s gonna get soft, so he tilts his head upwards and shuts his eyes tightly, but Hugh’s having none of that. “Look at me” it’s an order, and when Vic lowers his gaze Hugh licks a long, easy stripe from the base to the head of his shaft, keeping eye contact the whole time. 

“You know why I snatched you off the streets Vic?” Hugh asks as he lazily jerks him off, examining his dick like he’s never seen it before. The thought of feeling insulted by the role Hugh has assigned him has completely vanished from Vic’s mind by now. All he can feel now is awe. “because of your big, fat cock”, and just like that Hugh takes the head of Vic’s cock into his mouth and sucks gently, just enough to make him crazy. He’s had experience, sure. College was a crazy time, and anyways he excels at everything he does. He pulls off Vic’s cock with a pop. “I bet you can’t believe how lucky you are huh, having me all to yourself. It’s so pathetic, the way you stare at me, but I find it endearing really, you obviously understand your place, and that’s why I can kneel at your feet. Because you know who’s the one running the show don’t you?” Vic can’t believe Hugh’s giving a whole ass speech between sucking his cock. He never talks this much in the tapes, but he’s not crazy enough to interrupt him and tell him to get back to sucking, and he would crawl over broken glass just for Hugh to look up at him like he’s looking at him now. So Vic can only nod, and Hugh seems satisfied with his speech so he takes Vic in his mouth again, setting an even rhythm as he swallows more of Vic’s cock in every thrust, humming around it and teasing it with his tongue. They should do this for every scheme, Vic thinks. He tries to run his fingers through Hugh’s impossibly soft brown curls, but he catches his wrist, sternly. “DON’T TOUCH ME” Vic flinches like he’s about to get hit. “You only touch me when I say you can touch me”. Vic’s about to start apologizing frantically but then everything’s fine, because Hugh is still on his dick, sneaking glances at him so he knows he’s still looking. Hugh needs his audience, he feels like a prima dona, all eyes (two eyes) on him. 

“Oh god oh shit I’m about to cum dude” Hugh pops off with an annoyed look on his face. “don’t you dare” he glares at Vic, and goes back to bobbing his head, faster, deeper, not helping Vic obey his order. At all. Vic is starting to lose it. This is too real, this is everything he’s ever wanted. And just then, someone tries to open the bathroom door. Then, loud knocking, “is anybody in there?!” Vic panics, but he can’t move, he can’t think, he’s trying not to cum and that takes all the brain power he disposes of (all three brain cells working in overdrive). Hugh ignores the knocking and keeps sucking dick with gusto. It’s the best blowjob Vic’s ever had, by a landslide, and he wonders how he’ll ever even look at a woman after this. But the knocking returns, and now it only gets louder. Hugh takes Vic’s cock out of his mouth and holds it daintily between his thumb and index finger “WE’LL COME OUT WHEN WE COME OUT, YOU GODDAMN SAVAGES!” Then, in another one of those Hugh Honey patented heel turns, he looks sweetly up at Vic. “I’m going to finish you off, alright baby boy? Warn me when you’re about to cum or I will flay you and then dismember you limb for limb”

The knocking on the door gets louder, but Hugh doesn’t give a shit. He’s got Vic under his complete and total control. Vic belongs to him now. He’s going to ruin him. He’ll never be able to get a blowjob without thinking of this now. Without thinking of what a god Hugh is. “Oh god oh shit I’m gonna fucking bust dude” Vic whines, and with cat like reflexes, Hugh pulls out and gives Vic a few strokes with a flick of his slender wrist, and Vic is shooting like he’d been holding it in for twenty years, but Hugh angles his dick just so, and Vic cums on his own 700 dollar shirt. He doesn’t seem to notice, he doesn’t mind. He just wants to feel this way for ever. Hugh looks up at him, a sparkle in his eye. “You’re so fucking easy, I’m almost embarrassed for you”. Vic is feels like he’s going to melt into the bathroom floor. The loud knocking brings them back to reality. Hugh gets up like he has all the time in the world, and walks over to the lavatories, washing his hands and gargling with a faint look of distaste (oh to waste my talents on such peasants). He’s still hard, but he knew he wasn’t going to get off when he started this. It’s about control, it’s about driving someone to the edge of madness while staying in perfect control yourself. Being aloof, being superior, handing out life ruining blowjobs like it’s nothing to him. “Put that away Vic, you’ll catch a chill”, he looks disdainfully at Vic’s spent cock, and just as Vic is struggling with his belt buckle (his hands are shaking so much dude) the door is unceremoniously kicked in. 

“WHAT is going on in here?!” Two busboys and a waiter are standing incredulously at the door. “Oh, you got it open” Hugh says without missing a beat “we were wondering how long we were going to be trapped in here” oblivious of the chair that was obviously blocking the door only a second before. “Come on Vic, pick up the bags, and take care of those stains on your shirt, will you?” And without another word, Hugh is sauntering towards the door, parting the staring restaurant staff like the Red Sea. Vic is left to scuttle for the bags, remember what Hugh said about his shirt, dump them on the ground, splash around a gallon of water all over his chest (gotta get out of here quick) and then pick up the bags, which he holds to his chest as he barges out of the bathroom, just to barge back in immediately to pick up his jacket, almost knocking over a busboy.

He runs up to Hugh as he’s exiting the restaurant, taking his new 5.000 dollar shades out of his blazer pocket and looking around like he owns Philadelphia. “Come on baby boy. We’ve got a house to sell”

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know how much expensive clothes cost, I’m more Mac than Dennis in that regard.
> 
> Please let me know what you think! I’m really happy with the reception this series has gotten. Your encouragement means so much to me. Thank you.


End file.
